


Home Is Whenever I'm With You

by waitingtobelit



Series: with starry feet [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Romance, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitingtobelit/pseuds/waitingtobelit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac is a stubborn patient; Marius winds up stumbling over his own bedside manners. Combeferre and Enjolras manage to clean up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Is Whenever I'm With You

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I just love Marius/Courfeyrac a lot and wanted shameless fluff for them. This was the result. Title comes from the Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes song, "Home."
> 
> Warnings: Some description of snot and a sprained ankle.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Les Miserables. This was written purely for recreational purposes.

“I’m not sick!” Courfeyrac declares through a clogged nose. He sits in bed with his arms folded across his chest, face as pale as a ghost, nose and cheeks red like his favorite (ugly) pair of socks. He is positively adorable as he pouts like a petulant child. Marius wants to savor the moment for as long as possible.

“You sound like a frog.” Marius points out from his position leaning in the frame of the doorway. He tries hard not to laugh and/or coo at his boyfriend in retaliation for all the times he’d done the same to Marius. “And you’re paler than me, and that’s saying something. So stop pouting and let me take care of you.”

“You, take care of me? Marius, I love you, but you can’t even make pudding without hurting yourself.” Courfeyrac says in between sniffles, which makes him sound as assertive as the pillow he leans upon.

Marius rolls his eyes. “Still doesn’t change the fact that you’re sick or that you need to be taken care of.”

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of-” Courfeyrac interrupts his own speech as he all but hacks up a lung. 

Marius walks over to the bed and sits on the edge, placing a hand on Courfeyrac’s back to massage him as his coughs begin to subside.

“Will you just relax and let me help you? Please?” He leans his forehead against Courfeyrac’s, nuzzling him for a bit.

“You’re going to catch my germs, darling.” Courfeyrac sighs as he nuzzles back. He pulls back a moment later as he starts to cough again. Marius resumes rubbing his back with a fond smile.

“I’ve been sharing your bed for how long now, dear?”

“First, stop with the endearments.” He pauses to choke down more coughing, which works to an extent. “You’re already too much like a baby giraffe trying to walk. Secondly, almost a month exactly, now. And no, I haven’t been keeping count, that’s ridiculous and too you - ”

“Oh shut up.” Marius interrupts him with a quick kiss to the lips. Courfeyrac moves his arms to tug a little at the collar of Marius’ shirt.

“Scandalous. Kissing your lover while he’s sick. What would Joly say?”

“He would scold me but I would not listen.” Marius kisses him again.

“You rebel you.” Courfeyrac brings his other hand to run through Marius’ hair. “No but really. I’m so proud.”

“Proud enough to let me help you?” He waggles his eyebrows as Courfeyrac snorts which dissolves into more coughing. Marius sighs but continues to caress Courfeyrac’s back. “Come on. Let me at least give you a bath.”

Courfeyrac perks up at that, the spark briefly returning to his reddened eyes.

“Only if you get in the tub with me.”

“Neither of us will get clean if that happens.” Marius makes a show of rolling his eyes, though he can’t stop the upward curve of his lips.

“Actually - ” Courfeyrac dissolves into coughing again, leaning forward into Marius, who wraps an arm around him and holds him close. “Alright, you win. I’m sick. Happy now?”

“Happy that my boyfriend is actually letting me take care of him? Yes, very.” Marius kisses the top of Courfeyrac’s head and tries to not look overly smug. “Dear.”

“Don’t let it go to your brain, Pontmercy. One miniscule victory is not a good look on you.” Courfeyrac ruffles Marius’ hair with a smirk of his own. “My darling wee lamb.”

“Ugh.” Marius feels the blush as it spreads across his cheeks, highlighting each and every individual freckle. “Can you not keep calling me that.”

“You love it.” Courfeyrac whispers against his neck as he starts to kiss it, warmth rushing through him in time with the blood in his veins. Marius supposes he should be more concerned for his personal health, but then Courfeyrac finds that particular spot just below his pulse point, and he gasps, unable to bring himself to care.

Marius pulls away a moment later as Courfeyrac starts to cough again. He looks down to find the front of his shirt covered in Courfeyrac’s snot. He winces.

“Come on, before you get any more gunk on me.” He pulls back the covers and wraps an arm around Courfeyrac’s waist to help pull him to his feet. Courfeyrac swats away his efforts as though shooing a fly.

“I am not a complete invalid. I can still walk myself to the bathroom.” He mutters as he swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“If you insist.” Marius simply watches him as he runs a hand through his hair before pushing himself onto his feet.

 He lasts about five seconds before he sways, and Marius rushes to his side, arm out at the ready.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Shut up.”

Marius helps lead Courfeyrac to the bathroom, Courfeyrac muttering complaints all the way.

 

\---

 

Undressing Courfeyrac proves a challenge when the man tries to undress him at the same time. (“Why are your stupid pants the way they are?”) They fumble with each other, and Marius knocks his head into the wall several times over. Eventually, they manage to complete the task with minimal damage.

Getting into the bath proves as daunting as one of Hercules’ labors, however.

Marius, in navigating both himself and Courfeyrac into their already cramped bathroom, manages to trip over himself twelve different times. Once, he bumps his head against the corner of the sink. Just as he manages to right himself from that, he almost falls into the toilet. Bruises of every size and color bloom upon his skin as Marius attempts (and fails) to keep Courfeyrac from laughing at him, wheezing chuckles that promptly turn into more coughing.

“No laughing.” Marius chides him as he leads him over to the tub. “You’re only making it worse for yourself.”

“You’re making it rather difficult not to, darling.” Courfeyrac ruffles his hair as Marius rolls his eyes.

Naturally, in attempting to maneuver both himself and Courfeyrac into the tub, Marius manages to cut himself on the open lid of Courfeyrac’s organic coconut mango soap. (“I buy it for the smell and I haven’t seen you complaining yet.” Courfeyrac retorts whenever Marius gives him grief for it. And really, he can’t complain in earnest because it smells like paradise rubbed all over his lover’s skin.)

Marius waits for the water to reach Mordor levels of boiling before lowering Courfeyrac into it. As Courfeyrac makes a noise half-way between a groan and a sigh, Marius stumbles over to the medicine cabinet behind the mirror to bandage himself up. He sinks into the water behind Courfeyrac and tries not to wince as his bruises brush against the cracked porcelain.

“This is why I can’t be sick. I need to look after you.” Courfeyrac says as he rubs a hand over a particularly purple splotch on Marius’ thigh.

“It’s not my fault; this bathroom is out to get me! The sink jumped out at me, I swear.” Marius huffs as he reaches for the shampoo on the left corner. He manages to open it without fuss, squeezing a dime-sized drop of liquid into his hands. Courfeyrac hums, almost purrs, really, as Marius begins to massage the shampoo into his damp curls.

“Whatever you say, darling.” Marius can feel his smirk through his damn hair.

“Ugh.” He splashes a bit of water in Courfeyrac’s face.

“Are you trying to drown me now? Some boyfriend you are.” Courfeyrac sputters and retaliates by splashing Marius in return.

“You really never will just take a bath in peace.” Marius sighs as he scoops up water to pour over Courfeyrac’s hair. He runs his hand through the curls again, rinsing the shampoo out.

“Baths with two people are not meant to be peaceful.” Courfeyrac coughs and then sniffles. Marius pats his shoulder, grinning into his hair.

“When one of those people has a cold, a bath is supposed to be relaxing.” Marius reaches over for the purple shower sponge on the back corner of the tub and the soap that previously cut him. He lathers the sponge before beginning to rub it across Courfeyrac’s chest.

“Hmm.” He leans into Marius’ touch. “Keep doing that and I’m going to burst from too much relaxation.”

“That’s the point.” Marius kisses his hair. “Dear.”

“No terms of endearment for you, remember wee lamb?” Courfeyrac mutters as he sinks back further into Marius’ arms.

Marius rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply. He takes his time massaging the sponge across Courfeyrac’s body, scrubbing deeply against the crooks of his elbows, Courfeyrac’s favorite place to be kissed. His smile widens at the tiny whimpers that escape from his lover in his arms. He lets Courfeyrac’s contented sighs wash over him like the bath water, breathing in the silence like the scent of Courfeyrac’s soap.

They remain like that for what feels like an hour, Marius washing Courfeyrac and occasionally leaning in to plant kisses like wildflowers across his face. Courfeyrac, for all his previous protests, actually adores to be pampered in the bath, a secret Marius uncovered the second week of their relationship. Marius holds him close as Courfeyrac’s breathing slows and his limbs still, cherishing the momentary tranquility.

“Remember the other night?” Courfeyrac squirms a moment later, moving to sit up and rub his hand slowly over Marius’ right wrist. Marius tells himself the tremors running through him are because of the heat of the water.

“You’ll have to be more specific. There are many other nights.” He grins into Courfeyrac’s hair as Courfeyrac lightly smacks him on the back of the arm.

“You know which night I’m talking about.” Courfeyrac says as he traces lines across Marius’ skin. “Remember the showerhead and my creative use of-”

“Oh right. Yes. That night.” Marius bites on his lip as he blushes. It was certainly one of their more daring ventures as of late, and aches still run through his body at the memory of the contortions the night required of them.

Courfeyrac laughs, tilting his head back to catch a glimpse of Marius. “Aw, darling. You’re so cute when you blush.”

“Shut up.” Courfeyrac only giggles more as the flush spreads further across Marius’ face.

“We should definitely repeat that one.” Courfeyrac says, smoothing his hands down the insides of Marius’ wrists.

“Are you trying to seduce me while sick?” Marius tries to sound indignant, but Courfeyrac’s touch renders him slightly breathless, thus ruining any chance for conviction in his voice.

“Why are you so surprised?” Courfeyrac manages before he dissolves into a coughing fit again.

“You’d be more convincing, you know, if you weren’t hacking up a lung.” Marius holds him close as he rubs his chest, pressing his lips to Courfeyrac’s hair.

 

\---

 

They finish the bath in relative peace, though Courfeyrac does slow their drying process by pressing Marius into the counter. Eventually, Marius gets them both dressed, himself in jeans and a ratty, black t-shirt, and Courfeyrac into a fresh pair of pajamas. Courfeyrac bemoans any help in returning to their bedroom but drapes his arm across Marius’ shoulders as he leans on him all the same.

“I’m making you soup.” Marius declares once he gets Courfeyrac back into bed, blankets tucked around him as snug as a bird’s nest. “And maybe cookies if you’re good.”

“You’re so good to me.” Courfeyrac grins up at him as he sniffles. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d have to cook for yourself.” Marius says as he ruffles Courfeyrac’s hair.

“Hey now. Don’t go getting drunk with power just because I’m slightly bedridden.” Courfeyrac ducks his head away from Marius just as he starts coughing again.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Marius moves his hand to Courfeyrac’s shoulder, gently rubbing him. “I’ll bring you some cough medicine, too.”

“Ugh. Dayquil?” Courfeyrac scrunches his nose as Marius rises from the bed.

“It was the only one I could find when I had my cold last year.” He shrugs apologetically. “I’ll make you snickerdoodle cookies to drown out the taste.”

Marius turns and walks toward the door as Courfeyrac sinks into the pillows behind him.

“You’re the best, darling wee lamb.”

He pauses, his hand resting on the door handle. He feels his face turn red as giggles bubble up in him and escape at Courfeyrac’s words.

“I can hear you from here, dork."

“Shut up, dear.”

“You and petnames. Still never going to happen.”

Marius practically skips out the door.

 

\---

 

 

Marius takes away the empty dishes just as Courfeyrac blessedly falls asleep, stuffed with soup and cookies. Murmuring multiple prayers of thanks under his breath, he opens the door with his right big toe and leaves the room. He makes sure to close it afterwards, as a precaution. He’s known Courfeyrac to snore through thunder storms, hell; he would probably sleep through a zombie apocalypse. Still, Marius thinks of his cough and the sweat sticking to skin as he makes his way quietly down the hallway.

Yet Courfeyrac’s amazing sleeping prowess isn’t without its benefits. Marius, recalling the many times in which he’s had to creatively awaken Courfeyrac, smiles to himself as his feet cross the cold tiles of their kitchenette. (Courfeyrac especially appreciates when Marius finds inspiring ways to wake him with his mouth.)

Marius’ thoughts drift between concern for Courfeyrac’s current condition and images of stolen kisses and entwined hands. He shakes his head to try and regain focus, but his mind still wanders, the images within it changing shapes as often as the clouds in the sky. He reaches the counter before long, lifting the tray slightly to place it next to the sink. Still distracted by thoughts of Courfeyrac, he overestimates his step as the ground beneath him shifts. He stumbles into a haphazard pirouette, the world rushing by him, distorted by his lack of balance. He flails like a cat fallen off the edge of a couch as he lands abruptly on the ground, his hands thrown out before him as if they might soften the blow.

The dishes ring out in the apartment like clashing bells, and Marius hopes that the abrupt nature of the noise won’t startle Courfeyrac awake.

Jolts of pain burst through him directly from his right ankle. He swears loudly, a string of the most obscene words in his vocabulary, wincing as he brings himself to a sitting position. Tears, beckoned against his will, pool in his vision to transform the world through a blurred veil. He sucks in a shaky breath as he brings a trembling, slightly aching hand down to the edge of his pants.

“My Marius senses are tingling. Is everything alright? Marius?”

The familiar, currently congested voice emerging from the hallway along with a muffled shuffling of feet causes him to freeze. Marius quickly wipes his face against the back of his arm before attempting to stand. He manages to make it to his feet for about a second before the agony of placing weight on his right foot sends him back sprawling to the floor. He cries out, unable to restrain himself.

“Oh my God, Marius.” Courfeyrac is beside him in an instant, a remarkable feat considering his lack of well-being. He kneels down, eyes searching frantically over Marius for any outward sign of injury. “What happened?”

“I fell.” Marius winces as more tears spring to his eyes. “I think I did something to my ankle.”

“Let’s get you over to the couch, yeah?” Courfeyrac murmurs, wrapping an arm around Marius’ shoulders to pull him close and kiss him on his hair. “Can you walk, do you think?”

“I can try.” He shudders as Courfeyrac holds him. They remain like that for a moment; Marius inhaling with an unstable rhythm as Courfeyrac keeps him close, nuzzling his face as he whispers soothing nothings into his hair. The pain in his ankle is enough that Marius does not even complain about the snot rubbing off on his cheeks, nor protest Courfeyrac’s own labored breathing.

“Come on.” Courfeyrac moves an arm around his waist and tugs to pull him to his feet. Marius moves with him, biting down on his lip as he drapes an arm across Courfeyrac’s shoulders to steady himself.

Courfeyrac leads him through the cramped space of the kitchenette at a snail’s pace, Marius leaning heavily on him as he drags his right ankle behind him. Once they reach the living room, walking becomes a more complicated task. Books and clothes and old food wrappers litter the floor the way some romantics might cover their bedroom floors in rose petals. Courfeyrac starts coughing again, stumbling over a wayward DVD in the process. Marius cries out when his right ankle catches against a corner of an opened hardcover, chest heaving as his tears spill onto Courfeyrac’s neck.

“Shh. I’ve got you.” Courfeyrac murmurs, managing to contain his coughs as he slows his pace to accommodate for Marius. “I’ve got you, my lovely one.”

They make it to the worn loveseat without further incident, much to Marius’ relief. Courfeyrac lays him down so that he faces the television in the corner, propping up both his back and his ankle on the opposing armrests.

“Alright, let’s have a look then.” Courfeyrac kneels beside him on the floor by his feet, rubbing his lower leg before moving to reach for the end of his pants. With a wheezy breath, he lifts the hem to reveal swollen skin covered in an angry shade of red.

“Shit.” Marius, from his position at the other end of the couch, blanches at the sight, quickly turning to stare at the wall to his left.

“Well, you did something to it. I just can’t tell what.” Courfeyrac observes before leaning away to cough again. He moves closer when the coughs subside moments later. “How did this happen, anyway?”

Marius says nothing, taking refuge in the silence building between them as his face attempts to match his ankle in color. Since he can remember, he has always been stumbling into corners, crashing into people, or tripping over thin air. His grandfather had often remarked he took after his father “in that respect.” Back when Marius still assumed his father to hate him, he absorbed his grandfather’s commentary like the claws of a cat sinking into exposed skin. Though some small part of him acknowledges the absurdity of it, his shoulders still slump in shame as he refuses to meet Courfeyrac’s gaze.

“Marius. Look at me.” Courfeyrac brings a hand up to his right cheek, tilting his face to glance at him. “You know as much as I laugh at you being, well, you, that I never blame you for it, right?”

Marius attempts to smile, but his mouth falters and a resigned mumble tumbles out in its place. He sinks further into the couch without realizing it, his natural instincts for curling in on himself overcoming him in the moment.

“Besides,” Courfeyrac continues in between sniffles, “if it wasn’t for your utter lack of coordination, we might not be here today, and that would be a tragedy akin to Romeo and Juliet! Or something like that.”

Marius laughs then, grinning at both the ridiculous nature of Courfeyrac’s speech and the sweetness lying just underneath his words. He leans forward to press his forehead against Courfeyrac’s, taking comfort even in his slick sweat. He exhales slowly, grazing his nose against Courfeyrac’s before speaking.

“Okay, so. I was putting away the dishes and I…fell.” His cheeks still burn with embarrassment, but he smiles.

“I love you, you beautiful, human disaster.” Courfeyrac breathes the words against his mouth. “Only you could injure yourself while taking care of the sick.”

“Don’t I know it.” Marius replies, eyelashes fluttering as he leans in closer. “Love you, too.”

Courfeyrac closes the distance between them as he presses his lips to Marius’, kissing with all the force he can muster. Marius brings his own hands to cup Courfeyrac’s face as their kissing deepens. He pulls away when Courfeyrac starts coughing into his mouth.

“Ugh, get your germs away from me!” Marius bats at him even as he giggles. “You’re supposed to be in bed right now. You need your rest more than I do.”

“Yeah, well. You weren’t supposed to get your ankles in a twist.” Courfeyrac pulls away from Marius, wiping his nose across his sleeve as he rises and moves towards the kitchen. “So now I’m getting you some ice, ibuprofen, and then I’m calling Combeferre.”

Marius bolts up as Courfeyrac enters the kitchen.

“No! Please don’t. I can’t handle another lecture.” He rubs his hand across his forehead, inching it close to his hair as he speaks.

“Tough.” Courfeyrac more coughs than replies, the scraping sounds of the freezer opening and various items getting shoved around accompanying his words. “And if I hear you so much as lift the toes on your good foot I will come in there and hold you down. And not the fun kind of holding down, either.”

Marius flops back on the loveseat with a grimace, the pain in his ankle such that he doesn’t even feel the need to wonder at Courfeyrac’s ability to read his mind or argue with him. He pouts as Courfeyrac bustles about in the kitchen, guilt creeping into his being as he shrinks into himself once again. He’s the one who should be taking care of Courfeyrac now, not the other way around.

“Wee lamb, I can see that pout from here. Cease that immediately before I shove more of my germs down your throat.”

Marius lets out a tiny huff of laughter at Courfeyrac’s words, finally relaxing into the cushions.

“And what if I want more of your germs down my throat?”

“Well, then.” He turns to find Courfeyrac leaning against the island counter dividing their kitchen and living room, his best attempt at a smolder plastered on his face, one eyebrow raised and his arms across his chest with the lump of an ice pack in his hands. He ruins his own seductive efforts as coughs wrack his body.

“Courfeyrac, seriously. You need to go back to bed.” Marius says, sitting up and wincing as he jostles his wounded leg.

“Ah, ah what did I tell you?” Courfeyrac strides over to the couch as he recovers, plopping himself down on the edge to place a steadying hand on Marius’ chest. “No moving. I mean it. I will sit on you.”

“At the very least, take some more Dayquil. Sometimes you need more than the required amount.” Marius acquiesces with a grumble as Courfeyrac takes the ice pack to place it on his ankle. “Fuck! That’s cold!”

“That’s kind of the point, darling.” Courfeyrac ruffles his hair. “And I will so long as you take the ibuprofen.”

“Deal.” Marius nods as Courfeyrac leans in to steal another kiss. “Ugh if I wind up with your cold on top of this…”

“You love me.” Courfeyrac sing-songs as he pulls himself to his feet. “Now stay still. I’ll be right back.”

Marius strains his neck to watch Courfeyrac’s retreating form. He smiles at the way Courfeyrac’s pajama bottoms hang loose off of his hips, exposing a bit of his slightly tanned skin. The pain in his ankle lessens the more he focuses on Courfeyrac’s swaying hips and the memories of a couple nights previous their hypnotic motion conjures.

Suddenly, the Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody” blares from Marius’ cellphone on the counter, disrupting his reverie and causing him to start. He swears loudly as his ankle brushes against the back of the couch and the ice pack falls to the floor.

Courfeyrac returns, two bottles of medicine in hand which he swaps for the phone on the counter before Marius can so much as lift a finger.

“You old sap. I still can’t believe this is your ringtone.” Courfeyrac smirks as he lets it play through the “oh my darling” part, walking over to pick up the ice pack and place it back on Marius’ ankle.

Marius takes the opportunity to reach out for the device just as Courfeyrac swerves out of his reach and answers.

“Hello, hello. You’ve reached the residence of Perfection and his trusty sidekick, Stumbles Into Everything. How may we help you?” Courfeyrac smirks as Marius presses his head into his hands and groans. “Yes, it’s Courfeyrac. No, it’s only a cold, really. Marius is unable to come to the phone right now. Him and walking don’t exactly see eye to eye at the moment.”

“Courfeyrac!” Marius, out of habit, can’t help but groan from behind his hands, wishing desperately for the couch to swallow him whole.

“We think he might’ve sprained his ankle, why, what were you thinking Combeferre?” Marius can hear the smirk in Courfeyrac’s voice as he starts to massage his forehead, fingers pulling at his skin with more force than necessary.

“Oh, shit. That’s right. That meeting was today wasn’t it?”

“Crap!” Marius bolts up, hands falling to his sides as he recalls the fact that they were all supposed to meet at the Musain to discuss a future protest.

“Marius, sit down before you hurt yourself more.” Courfeyrac walks over to place a hand on Marius’ shoulders to keep him steady. “Yes, well. Obviously we couldn’t make it due to health reasons.”

Courfeyrac stands with one hand on Marius, tilting his head as he listens to Combeferre on the other end of the line. Marius can make out occasional whole words, but for the most part hears only scrambled gibberish.

“It would be greatly appreciated.” Courfeyrac looks down, giving him the thumbs up. Marius groans again. “Of course Enjolras is welcome to come too, if he cares to risk catching our mutual idiocy.”

Marius snorts as Courfeyrac squeezes his shoulder.

“Great! We’ll see you in ten minutes then.”

Courfeyrac hangs up and goes back to the counter, swapping out Marius’ phone for the Dayquil and the ibuprofen. He saunters back to the couch, handing the ibuprofen to Marius as he begins to twist the Dayquil open. As he pops the lid off, Marius beside him makes quick work of his own bottle.

“Bottoms up?” He says, holding out his bottle to that of Marius. Marius nods, clinking his to the Dayquil in Courfeyrac’s hands.

They look at each other for a brief moment before chugging their respective medicines.

“Fucking hell!”

“Ugh.”

 

\---

 

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled at the staggering amount of genius between you two.” Combeferre greets them when he lets himself and Enjolras in, using the spare key entrusted to him by Courfeyrac. He walks over to the couch where both Marius and Courfeyrac now lay, first aid kit propped under his arm like a briefcase.

“Certainly, your ability to clean is masterful.” Enjolras remarks, scrunching his nose at the state of their floor as he follows Combeferre inside. He sports his usual red jacket with a stack of pamphlets under his arms as he maneuvers his way over to the couch.

“I was going to clean! But then I um. I fell.” Marius speaks up from where Courfeyrac holds him on the couch. Curled together, Courfeyrac cradles Marius from behind so as not to further injure his ankle. Courfeyrac keeps his head buried in Marius’ neck, nuzzling him.

“I’m sure that’s helping your cold.” Combeferre deadpans, observing them as he arranges the first aid kit by their fit. “Not to mention spreading more germs around, to say the least.”

“It’s fine.” Marius, resigned to the inevitability of catching Courfeyrac’s cold, replies, tangling his hand with that of Courfeyrac. “I’m already injured. What’s a cold if I’m already couch ridden?”

“You said you fell?” Combeferre glances at him as he gently pushes the edge of his jeans up his ankle. “Did you trip over something? And what about those bruises on your arms?”

“…I was putting dishes away.” Marius buries his head into Courfeyrac, shame creeping up his neck like the blush on his face. Courfeyrac kisses the top of his head in reassurance. “And I was giving Courfeyrac a bath.”

“Dear God. Pontmercy, you are impossible.” Enjolras says, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“I feel like I should be less surprised than I am.” Combeferre shakes his head, unable to keep the weary smile from his face. “Alright, let’s see the damage.”

Enjolras walks over to watch over Combeferre’s shoulder, pamphlets hanging almost forgotten in his left hand. He flinches at the sight of the swollen skin as Combeferre moves the ice pack. Combeferre holds Marius’ ankle in his hand, gently prodding it though not enough to keep Marius from hissing. He turns Marius’ ankle to obtain a view from all angles, squinting to make sure no detail of the injury escapes his notice.

“So good doctor. What’s the news?” Courfeyrac pipes up from behind Marius, watching Combeferre just as intently as the other occupants of the room.

“I’d say it’s definitely sprained.” Combeferre replies, still focused on the ankle. “It’s good that you’ve kept it elevated. I assume you’ve taken something for the pain?”

Marius nods as Courfeyrac kisses his cheek and squeezes his shoulder.

“Good. Alright then. I’m going to wrap it for you, and get you another ice pack. Keep it on your ankle for about ten to twenty minutes every hour. If it still hurts tomorrow, if you can’t walk tomorrow, go see a doctor, understood?” Both Combeferre and Enjolras pierce him with fierce looks. Marius knows the expression on both men’s faces too well; he squirms against Courfeyrac.

“Marius.” Enjolras prompts when he doesn’t instantly answer. Marius shrinks at the exasperation in his expression, though he knows he means well. Courfeyrac nuzzles him in encouragement, whispers promises against his neck.

“Okay. I promise.” Marius sighs as Combeferre takes out a roll of ace bandages and begins to wrap his ankle. Their vibrant color catches him off-guard.

“Sorry.” Combeferre looks up at him with an apologetic smile. “Red’s the only color I have at the moment.”

“There’s nothing wrong with red, anyway.” Enjolras interjects as Courfeyrac and Combeferre both snort.

He sits up abruptly as realization strikes him.

“Shit. What about work?”

“Musichetta will understand. She always does.” Courfeyrac says. Enjolras and Combeferre nod.

“You need to stay off your feet for a bit.” Combeferre says as he finishes wrapping Marius’ ankle. “Both of you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m as healthy as a daisy.” Courfeyrac protests, waving his spare hand around in a florid gesture meant to encourage his good health. His sniffles following suit quickly dispel the illusion.

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in telling you to sleep in different beds tonight?” Combeferre asks though he already knows the answer.

“Absolutely none at all.” Courfeyrac grins, leaning in to quickly kiss Marius’ nose. Marius smiles before nuzzling his face into Courfeyrac’s neck.

“Stop it with all the cuddling or _I’m_ going to be sick.” Enjolras moans as Combeferre settles for rolling his eyes.

“Sorry.” Marius’ apologizes though he’s not sorry at all. He tries not to smile. “All the excitement of the day. I can’t resist.”

“Yeah.” Courfeyrac says, leaning in to kiss Marius’ neck. “What he said.”

Enjolras pinches the bridge of his nose as Combeferre pointedly begins taking stock of the first aid kit by his feet.

“Can we please just start catching up on what you two missed at the meeting now?” Enjolras asks.

Marius looks at Courfeyrac before responding.

“Alright, I guess.”

“Good.” Enjolras begins spreading the pamphlets on the side table by Marius’ head, reeling off a list of potential resources for their next project.

Marius sighs, leaning into Courfeyrac, who nuzzles him once more.

It’s going to be a long late-afternoon.

 

\---

 

In the morning, Marius wakes up to Courfeyrac’s devious chuckling. He rolls over as gingerly as he can towards the sound, wincing at both the pain in his ankle and the sudden, unexpected weight of his own head. At least Courfeyrac sounds more like himself again.

“I just got a text from Enjolras saying how much he hates us.” Courfeyrac positively cackles. Marius lifts his head and inhales, cursing under his breath when he realizes he can’t breathe through his nose.

“What for?” He whispers because he knows if he tries to talk he’ll sound like a frog.

“I gave both of them my cold.” Courfeyrac turns to face him more fully with an impish grin.

“Not just them.” The words come out before he can stop them. Marius lets his head drop back onto the pillow as Courfeyrac scrutinizes him. He scoots over on the bed and before Marius can protest, he has his arms wrapped around him.

“Aw, my poor, darling lamb.”


End file.
